Quetzaltenango – Lago Atitlan (3 nights) – Antigua – Monterrico – Chiquimulilla – Jalpatagua
8 days | 559 kilometers | 9522 meters elevation gain
After getting locked up in my hotel in my last night in Mexico (apparently the hotel closed its doors after 7PM but nobody told me) I logically wake up hungry. Food! After the usual scrambled eggs, beans, grilled plátanos y tortillas sitting on a plastic chair on the side of the road inhaling all kinds of exhaust fumes it’s time to prepare to leave Mexico. It’s a 5 kilometer climb to what I think is the border. When I enter the building to get my stamps the officer tells me I first need a Mexico-exit-stamp and that I need to get it in the border town where I just came from. Damn it. The 5 kilometer back downhill doesn’t really matter to me much, as you can understand it’s more the 5 kilometer back up the hill afterwards. It’s going to be a lot of climbing today anyway so I decide to lock my bike and with my last money take a taxi back and forth. When I have all my stamps and the obligated picture of me at the Bienvenido a Guatemala sign I continue. The border here is a bit strange. There are no gates and everybody is able to cross, no questions asked. Guatemalans cross into Mexico to buy clothes and Mexicans cross over to Guatemala to buy food.
My first impression of Guatemala: friendly people, people are greeting and honking at me with big smiles. The road is in very bad shape; a patchwork of asphalt. At times the potholes have emerged into one big hole with sprinkles of tarmac here and there. As a result of these bad roads you only see pick-up trucks that have proper shock absorbers for these roads. I see remarkably many kids. The women are all wearing traditional colorful gowns. Everything and everybody is being transported in the back of these open pick-up trucks, sometimes with 30 at once cramped against each other. They don’t speak Español here, they speak a variety of ancient Mayan languages: Mam and K’iche’. All in all a nice first impression of a new country.
After my lonely christmas in Tuxtla Gutierrez I decided that for new years eve I want to be in a bigger town with more tourists. My eye immediately fell on the city with the beautiful name of Quetzaltenango. However it’s December 30th today and Quetzaltenango a bit too far with a bit too much of climbing (180km with 3800m↑), so I decide I will cycle a bit and try to hitchhike as well.
After 63 kilometres I hitch a ride at a gas station. I sit in the back of a pick-up truck with my bike next to me and Guatemalan life flashes by. I’m in the big city of Huehuetenango now. I feel like I’m on a roll and immediately try to find a new ride to Quetzaltenango. It takes a bit longer but I find a friendly looking family traveling to Quetzaltenango that is willing to take me and my bike in the back of their pick-up. Three little kids, their uncle and me are in the back. We all hold my bike upright. It’s life threatening how Guatemalans are transported in the back of these open trucks: no seatbelts, no seats, a car that is blazing 100 km/h or more over the highway. One sudden event could throw us out of this car easily. We are climbing to 3000 meters altitude and it’s getting ice cold. I manage to put on some extra layers while holding my bike and fighting off the bumps in the road. In the meantime the sun is setting and the sky turns into a palette of red, pink and orange, here and there volcanoes are piercing through the clouds and mist. It’s a great spectacle. When we finally arrive in Xela, how locals call this city, I am cold and nauseous. It’s altitude sickness all over again. I guess today just took a bit too much energy out of me: the climbing, looking for rides, the altitude and the cold in the back of the pick-up. I recognize all the symptoms that me and Jacko had the last time in Mexico. Everything weighs 10 times heavier on me, I get out of breath by doing the smallest of movements, the urge to lie or sit down. I survive the bike ride to my hostel. More dead than alive I greet the guy on duty and push my bike through the door. He enthusiastically begins to give me a tour of the hostel to show me where everything is. I try to follow but mid-tour the nausea becomes too much and I have to take a sprint to the closest sink. When I’m done cleaning the sink after my accident I go back to the guy from the hostel. “And that, my friend, is how you make a first impression!”. Luckily he can laugh about my joke. With my last energy I take a semi-warm shower. I don’t have energy to go outside to buy dinner so I crawl in bed and I sleep by 8PM.


That night my rumbling stomach wakes me up a few times. I sleep 12 hours. Fortunately, when I wake up I feel better. I’ve cycled from Canada to Guatemala already! I’m thrilled. Also, my plan worked out! It’s December 31st and I’m in a big city in a hostel with other tourists.
I walk a bit to have breakfast and check out the town. While having breakfast in a shed where the chickens run around freely I’m sharing a table with a female police officer that speaks English. Whilst her male colleague that doesn’t know English is sitting next to her she tells me about corruption and sexism within the Guatemalan police force: having to pay money to work in the city that you live, higher ranked police officers that want ‘kisses’ to do them favors, etc. Unbelievable that this is still a reality in present days.
Back in the hostel I get to know some fellow travelers. Also, there will be a potluck dinner tonight, everybody will make a dish and we will all share food. Hooray! Obviously I sign up and go to the supermercado to do groceries. In the night we all cook in the kitchen and share meals and beers. There is a Swiss family, an English couple, a Mexican/Italian couple, a Guatemalan couple, a Canadian guy, a French guy, a guy from the States, a girl from the States and me. A motley and pleasant crew. At 11:30PM we jointly walk up a hill to watch the fireworks explode above the city. In advance I had wilder plans like going out to a bar until late, but I am still a bit weak from yesterday and most of all I think it has been a perfect night just the way it was. Some of us have another beer at the hostel and then I happily go to bed.



It’s busy at the Parque Central. I meet up with the Mexican/Italian couple and we roam the city a bit. In the night we play Pictionary with the people in the hostel. It turns out to be quite funny because most of us are not native English speakers so most of the turns start with “Wait, let me look up this word in Google Translate” or “I am not sure about the definition of the word, but I’ll give it a try!“. As the evening progresses and so do the pawns on the game board, it’s fun to see that the teams are getting more and more fanatic. When I’m about to call it a night I get a message from one of the Spanish schools I emailed today: “Yes you can learn Spanish at our school and if you want you can start tomorrow morning, 8AM“. Boom! Time to learn some Spanish and find my way back into the class room. I sign up for 5 days with 5 hours of lessons and I will move in with a Guatemalan family where I’ll get my own room, three meals per day and the chance to test my Spanish on the solely Spanish speaking family members. They call it the full immersion package.
Ten minutes before my alarm goes I am awake. That’s always a good sign, a sign that something big is about to happen. Today it’s time for my return to school and this time it’s completely voluntary. I’m motivated to learn more Spanish.
I’ve been doing some Duolingo before this trip and during my time in Mexico I’ve learned some words and verbs. But it is an unorganized mess in my head which needs to be straightened out. The one that’s in charge of straightening out that mess is my private teacher Mariella. I immediately like her. She is a no-nonsense middle-aged woman that doesn’t take life too serious. We laugh a lot.
Although I’m super motivated and want to make use of every minute, I feel that after an hour of class my attention span is weakening and that I’m getting tired. I’m not used to following classes anymore. At 1PM my first day is finished and I get picked up by Esperanza, my hostess, a beautiful old lady in a beautiful traje típico indigenous dress. At the house I meet her husband Gerardo, her daughter Florecita and her grand kids Florecita and Minor. Nice kids, beautiful family. There are two other girls that also stay with this family and learn Spanish, Shirley (US) and Hannah (Canada). The rest of the day I’m trying to find new Schwalbe tires for my bike but apparently they just don’t have this brand here in Guatemala. Which is sad because my tires are ready to be renewed but I don’t want another brand because these have been carrying me for 13.000km and I don’t think any other brand could pull that off. After dinner I have to make homework and it fills me with joy that I’m voluntarily making homework.





How different than my days on the bike are my days in Xela: super organized.
07:00 Alarm and making my homework at the dinner table whilst Esperanza is cooking our breakfast.
07:30 Breakfast.
07:55 Walking to school.
08:05 By default five minutes late I arrive at school.
10:30 A snack and a half hour break.
13:00 End of classes and walking back home
13:30 Lunch.
19:30 Dinner.
School feels so different if you are paying out of your own pocket and want to make the most of it. My teacher has a habit of straying off-topic and than I’m really like “Come on! Stay on track now!”. The afternoons and nights fill themselves automatically. I hike to a mirador for a good lookout over the city with Hannah. I frequently visit an internet cafe to type this blog. On Wednesday Shirley, Hannah and me go for a beer and a free salsa class in one of the bars in town. On Thursday we visit a neighboring village.
Via the daughter of my teacher I come into contact with a bunch of mountain bikers. On Saturday they will go for a ride in the mountains and I would like to join. I’m hesitating whether I could do it with my own bike, but I’m glad I didn’t do that. One of the guys, Juan, is so nice to lend me his mountain bike! So on Saturday I cycle out of town towards the meeting point and find about 15 other cyclists. They are cool and all have nice bikes. We set off into the mountains. The first sections are super tricky and steep, but I’m glad that I can keep up with the guys at the front of the group. Soon enough I earn the honorably nickname of “Mathieu van der Poel“.
Back in the Netherlands we have dedicated single-track mountain bike routes, signposted and well maintained. Here, we cycle over tracks that are used by farm workers and horses. Some sections are crazy steep down and are scaring even me, an adrenaline junk. I fall one time but luckily nothing serious. Afterwards we end the ride at the locally famous Xelapan, a bakery that serves as a restaurant as well. People love bread here. We munch on some good meals and afterwards I say goodbye to my new bike friends. It’s so easy to make friends if you have a strong common hobby or passion. In the night I check out Xela’s nightlife with Hannah and a new Dutch resident of our house, Irene.
On Sunday I decide to climb the Santa Maria volcano. Hannah has to take a raincheck because she is not feeling well. After buying some food I take a chicken bus to the village where the hike starts. A land worker is also walking up the mountain and we have a short chat. People are relaxed here, they are sincerely interested in your whereabouts and don’t want anything else from you. The hike is seriously tough, they don’t really do hairpins here, instead there is just a path that goes straight to the top of the mountain and for that it’s steep as hell. Sweat is pouring down my body and it’s hard to catch a breath. In the meantime I see old ladies and young kids on their Sundays best cloak shoes skipping down the same path with big smiles. How the hell are they doing that? Once I get to the top I am the only one there. I’m at 3750m altitude and it’s dead silent. Clouds come and go but when they go I have beautiful vistas over Xela and other cities and villages. There is marks of the morning rituals everywhere: flowers and food are spread out on the rocks. For locals these volcanoes are sacred and they still perform ancient rituals here in the morning. Too bad I had to go and drink beer and make it late yesterday, otherwise I could be here in the morning as well. I have lunch at the top and I’m pretty sure the food that I bought in a rush turns out to be fried pig skin: yummy! I have to eat it, because I’m hungry as hell and only half way. The way down is killing for my muscles, tendons and joints. With shaking legs from fatigue I make it down. Funny that I’ve been exercising my legs every day for the last 7 months and still it turns out I will have muscle ache for the complete next week from this hike.












The idea is to cycle to lake Atitlan and make some small trips along the lake to fully circle it. I say goodbye to my Guatemalan host family, my teacher and the other international residents of the house. Once again I have to climb to 3000m but luckily no signs of altitude sickness this time. There is not a really nice route to get to the lake so I have to choose between an asphalt road that requires a lot more climbing or a gravel road which only goes down from here. Of course I pick the latter and of course I will regret it within the next hours. With estimated gradients of up to -25% over a road, better call it a path, with loose rocks all over. My hands start to ache from the force they have to deliver to squeeze my brakes. Slipping and sliding I make it down where soon I meet a woman that asks me about my wellbeing in English.
We have a short chat and I tell her I’m looking for a place to camp somewhere here. She tells me she has a place on the lake and that I’m welcome to pitch my tent.Incredible hospitality once again. I meet Ashe’s partner Ben, they bought land at the lake a long time ago and have been coming regularly from the US to Guatemala to build up their dream house. It’s incredibly simple but so perfect: a small shed where they sleep, an outside kitchen, outside shower, a compost toilet. Everything made from wood, bamboo and other natural materials. I pitch my tent on a terrace that they’ve just finished and it’s perfect. We share food, stories and play a board game at the camp fire at night.





In the morning I walk to the village of San Marcos. It’s funny how this once was a fisherman’s village and now is completely taken over by white guys with dreadlocks that walk with bare feet to their yoga classes. I see a placard board completely filled with announcements for “chakra cleansing”, “spiritual yoga” and “chrystal therapy”. When I return to the house Ben and Ash are not home. I leave a note for them to thank them for their hospitality and leave by bike. It’s nice to cycle around the lake and through all these small funny villages. Soon enough the fun is over when I have to circumvent the San Pedro volcan. The road goes up with kilometer long sections of >25%. It pushes me to go deep into my red heart rate zones. I meet a Greek bicycle tourist that is packed way lighter. We try to have a conversation on the steep sections but lack of air and him being faster than me does not really benefit the talk. I give him my number because we are both going south and maybe we can cycle together for a bit. He never reaches out.
It’s much less touristy here on this side of the lake and only later I hear the reason why. Apparently this side of the lake is supposed to be extremely dangerous which is the reason nobody goes here.
I only encounter smiles. Myth busted, I guess. After 35 kilometers I’m done. I feel completely wasted like I’ve done a much longer day. Cramps in my calves are taking over and I still feel the muscle ache of that volcano hike in my upper legs. I take a side road that leads towards the lake and see some nice houses with nice gardens. I decide to start knocking doors to see if I can pitch my tent somewhere. At the first house that I approach I meet the gardener, the residents are not at home. Nonetheless he tells me it’s absolutely no problem to pitch my tent in the garden for one night. Jackpot. I put my tent, swim in the lake, cook pasta and read a book.
I complete my way around the lake. It’s a perfect day, the birds sing and I sing happily with them. I do have to take one more crazy road steep down. At the end of this chicanery my brakes start squeaking a bit and I put my fingers on the discs to see if they’ve became hot. The answer is yes. I burn my fingers. Wow! I cool them down with some water from my water bottles that instantly turn into vapor. I make it to Panajachel where I check into a hostel.








Big day ahead today with 85km and 1850m↑, again some crazy climbs. I curse at these Guatemalans that seemingly just go to the top of a mountain and poor a bucket of tarmac straight down. That’s how they make mountain roads here. At the end of the day I zoom down the Pan-American highway towards Antigua. In the meantime I’m in contact with Warmshowers host Thomas. He tells me there are two other Argentinian cicloviajeros staying with him and they will give a talk about life on the bike to locals that are interested. He tells me to gather at the place where the talk is held. A beautiful park with some ruins on the background, a nice setting, but unfortunately not a lot of locals show up. I meet Thomas, Nube, Fernanda, a local bike shop owner and some other people. Nube and Fernanda do the talk and I try to catch what they are saying with my renewed Spanish. Afterwards we go to Thomas’ place where I will sleep on my mat in the living room. We have dinner together and get to know each other. Thomas used to be a bike tourist as well, cycling the Americas for 6 years. He knocked up a girl here in Antigua and had to cancel his cycle trip to come back to Antigua to take care of his newly born daughter. I can tell that his daughter means everything to him, but it’s bittersweet because something happened between him and the mother. They have split up, don’t talk anymore and only share custody.
It gets even more painful because Thomas needs to go back to Germany to earn some money but he is afraid that when he does so the mother won’t answer his videocalls and he will not see his daughter. Needless to say that I feel sorry for him.
Besides of just being a beautifully ancient town with colorful streets and cobblestones there is another main attraction for which millions of tourist come to Antigua: Acatenango. Hiking volcano Acatenango is a once-in-a-lifetime experience because from this volcano you are able to have a good view on another volcano Fuego that has been super active for years. Once in a lifetime experience. The thing is, I already did this hike 6 years ago with my girlfriend at the time and it was magical. I’m afraid that doing it again will be a disappointment. So when I came to Antigua I had resolved on not doing the hike again. However that night at the dinner table I turn around 180 degrees for two reasons. One. I let Thomas persuade me, he is really enthusiastic and tells me I will regret it if I won’t do it. Two. Nube and Fernanda go tomorrow and they are going to do the hike without a guide. That means it won’t be so expensive and they already have all the information on how to get there, which routes to take and where to camp. So at 10PM I decide I will join them the next day. This means I have to quickly think on what to bring for this two day hike and to pack my bag: tent, mat, sleeping bag, warm clothes, food, water.









We first take a bus to the Central Terminal where we buy some last food. This is also where we meet Clair, a Belgium girl from the French part that Fernanda and Nube already know from earlier in their travels. With the four of us we take two more buses to get to the beginning of the trail. The Guatemalans have done a perfect job building a trail that is steep as hell again and it doesn’t take long before we’re out of breath and wet with sweat. This hike has gained a lot of popularity in recent years so some parts in the beginning are really crowded. 95% is doing the hike with a tour/guide, fortunately we do without and get to decide our own pace and breaks. We have the needed equipment like tents ourselves and the routes are not difficult to follow. Saves a lot of money as well. I am having a great time with my new friends and we chat about. After we are out of the forest, we get treated to beautiful views of a fantastic lunar landscape of black volcanic grit. We find a beautiful “municipal” (free) camping spot in the midst of all the already set up camps for the tours. We have a great view on the smoking Fuego. There’s another tent already in the same spot and it belongs to the French couple Yannick and Gaidig. We enjoy a campfire together and see the sun set over a surreal landscape. After the sun has set it gets freezing cold but luckily someone has dragged a bottle of local Quetzalteca licor up the volcano to keep us warm. We go to bed early because the plan is to wake up early, walk the last bit to the top of the Acatenango to watch the sunrise at the top.
Fernanda and I sleep in my tent, Nube and Clair in the other. Even though I’m broken I don’t sleep a wink, it’s probably the altitude. At night we can hear the tumbling thunders of the Fuego and sometimes we try to quickly zip out of our tents to see the lava roll down. At 03:30 the alarm goes off and we get ready to walk to the top in the dark for another hour and a half. Well packed and with our headlamps on it’s still difficult to see the path at times. When we arrive at the summit we are not the only ones, a mere two hundred people is going to watch the spectacle of a spitting Fuego together with a magical sunrise. Every time the Fuego spits fire there is an oeh-aah from the ‘audience’. Another volcano, Agua, makes a beautiful silhouette against the emerging orange-red glow. We enjoy the show, sipping on some coffee. After sun has set, when most of the people have to go back with their tour guides, we have the volcano to ourselves. We walk along the crater and have a beautiful 360° panorama view that stretches out for miles. I can see Guatemala-City and lake Atitlan. When we have seen enough we descend down to the tents, have breakfast and coffee at another campfire, enjoy the warmth of the weak first sun rays and then pack up to walk down. Walking down is more difficult than going up, the steepness and loose gravel make you slip quickly. Tired and satisfied we make it back to Thomas’ house.









The next days in Antigua fill themselves automatically. Another cyclist joins Thomas’ place: Quentin a French guy. All of us go out for a beer in the night where I also meet Irene again. That’s a thing anyway traveling in present times. Most of the fellow tourists that you meet are following the same routes and going to the same hotspots and it’s easy to keep track of everybody via Instagram and therefore easy to meet again.
A few days later I hit the road again. Me and the Argentinians say goodbye to Thomas and together we hobble onto the cobblestones of Antigua. They will take another road though. I will go towards the beach and they will circle around some more volcanoes. My legs still hurt from the hike and I’ve had diarrhea the last days but I still felt good enough to jump on the bike.
The road towards the beach is almost solely downhill and it doesn’t take long before the warmth and humidity is there to greet me again.
I make it to the beach town of Monterrico just before sunset and immediately get attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes. I inform at the local police station if I can pitch my tent in the station but they tell me its safe to just pitch my tent on the beach. People told me that this is supposed to be a nice beach town but I don’t really like the vibes here. I roll my bike onto the beach and set up my tent. I don’t want to leave my bike and tent behind so I have dinner at the restaurant nearby such that I can keep a close eye on my belongings. The good news is that it has been a long time since I was able to sleep in only my liner without my sleeping bag!



I might have wanted to stay a few days at the beach but since I don’t like this town I decide to pack up again. But I only start moving in the afternoon, I take it easy in the morning, I have to patch up a leaky tire, I swim in the sea and have breakfast. I feel like I need to take it slow a bit, might be the diarrhea and sore legs. Two things that keep me occupied this morning. One, it really sucks that once you’ve set up camp you cannot really leave your spot. This morning I have to leave bike and tent alone for ten minutes to get breakfast but it does not feel good to leave your valuables behind.
Second thing is that after a really nice time in Antigua where I’ve met beautiful people I find it hard to be all alone again. It’s kind of a blue Monday feeling that I’m having. I guess it will take maybe a day to really enjoy being alone again. In the meantime I’ve found a donation-based camping site not far from here, a bit more inland, and decide to go there today. I have to take a small ferry boat to bring me to the other side of a mangrove nature reserve. The rest of the way is a piece of cake. Javier welcomes me to his camping and tells me multiple times that I should feel like this is my home as well. I sleep in a retired small campervan where I only have to roll out my inflatable mat and my liner.



In the morning I see a big accident. A truck is parked perpendicular to the road and most probably has hit the side of the narrow mountain pass. A lot of damage and a lot of commotion. I see a man in uniform staggering around with heavy bleeding on his face and another man still lying on the floor. After the man on the floor has been helped up by all the bystanders I feel like everyone’s going to be fine, so I’m leaving the scene. I think this is the first accident I’ve seen in 8 months on the road, that’s pretty unique I guess. Back on the bike I’m thinking about messages I got from back home. Apparently in the Netherlands it snows at the moment but here it’s 30 something degrees and the sweat is crawling down my butt crack. Pretty nice that the weather is good here, but during the climb of 24 kilometers that I just started I wouldn’t have mind a little cold. Soon I’m soaked. After a while I feel stings in my left lung, or is it my heart? I’m not sure and thus I stop. I need those stops a few more times after that. A heavily loaded truck passes me very slowly. I don’t hesitate for a second, shift up my gears, push out a little sprint and then manage to cling to the loose swinging chain at the back of the truck. This way I can save those legs a bit, but now my arms have to carry all the weight and soon I lose my lift.
When I’m finally at the top it is wonderful to whiz down. I see a Hotel Eros with terribly beautiful grass. I ask if I can camp there. The guy on duty puts his boss on the line for me. I tell him that I want to camp on his beautiful grass and ask if that’s okay for him? He offers me a room for half the price. Also fine. That means I will sleep in a sex hotel tonight that you can book per hour. You see those hotels everywhere here. You drive the car into a kind of carport of which the automatic roller doors immediately close. I guess for privacy reasons. Then you take the stairs to the second floor where the room is located. And here you can have a nice time with your girlfriend, mistress, whatever. Unfortunately there won’t be a lot of sex in my room tonight, but at least I sleep in a bed tonight. The condom on the night stand I keep as a souvenir.
Tomorrow it’s only 20 kilometers to the border with El Salvador and I can cross my first Central American country off of my list. After Mexico the countries here are much smaller. On the one hand that means you have less time to get accustomed to a country, but on the other hand it means that the thrill for a new country is just around the corner. El Salvador here I come!



Oye, puedo dormir en tu carpa?
Gran experiencia compartida ir al volcán, Señor Columbus.
Por más aventuras, regalos y tesoros.
Abrazos gordito !
Prachtig weer om het vervolg van je avonturen te lezen Marijn
Tot snel xxx
We hebben weer genoten van je verhaal. Indrukwekkend, die vulkanen. Ook erg mooie foto’s Marijn. Groetjes van Karin en Ans
Diep respect voor jou Marijn
Hey Marijn,
Keep up the good work! Making short work of those mammoth climbs! But they are hard to imagine from here in the Dutch platteland.
All the best,
Josh
Thanks Josh, yeah when you are here you only realize how ultra flat NL is 🙂